Wild Knights: Grasping an Ancient Fire
by red rose knight
Summary: An ancient lightsaber has fallen into the wrong hands and now it is up to Obi-Wan, Siri and Garen to get it safely back.
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Timeframe: 6 years post TPM

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Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Siri Tachi, Garen Muln, OCs

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Genre: Action/Adventure

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Summary: An ancient lightsaber has fallen into the wrong hands and now it is up to Obi-Wan, Siri and Garen to get it safely back.

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The usual disclaimers apply. George Lucas owns it all; I am not making any money on this.

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Wild Knights: Grasping an Ancient Fire

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Chapter One

Wicked winds whipped frozen moisture violently through the air as the sleek form of a Jedi Starfighter gently glided through the white to the landing pad. The spacecraft shuddered under the gale force winds that sent snow and ice cutting across the canopy as if in a desperate attempt to erase the ship's color that invaded the white world.

Under the ice fogged windows, a figure shifted about but made no attempt to exit the warmth of the craft. Crystalline moisture clung to the fighter's surface but did little to mar the sight of the bright blue eyes that peered out. 

The swirling world of unseen drifts that could swallow a full-grown Gamorrean whole seemed to creep toward the interloper. A few days at the station and the Starfighter would be lost in a pillow of white as evidenced by the many surrounding ships under their snowy blankets. 

A frustrated growl escaped the single occupant as the deep brown cloak was drawn close and the cowl pulled low. With a muted swoosh, the canopy slid back and opened, revealing the Jedi occupant. Lithely leaping from the cockpit, boots leaving tracks in the gathering ice crystals over the triangular wing and then easily leapt off landing lightly on the snow blown duracrete. 

The icy winds attacked the Jedi from every direction, invisible fingers grasping the hood and stealing it way with a yank. Short blond hair shifted about. Gloved fingers fought a desperate battle to pull the cowl close again. A sea of white surrounded the figure as she turned about staring into the permanent storm that wracked the frozen world.

"Arfour, patch me in to the old folks home," Siri Tachi barked into the wind. "I want to speak to Adi Gallia." She mumbled something best left incoherent while the astromech blipped and whistled its compliance. 

Although it took precious few moments for the connection to be made, in the harsh environment it felt like the wait of a lifetime. Blue holoimaging splashed across the starfighter's wing forming into the familiar figure of the High Council member. 

"This is punishment," Siri barked into the biting currents without preamble to her former master.

"I hardly consider this a punishment," the older Jedi replied as she folded her arms across her chest in an imperialistic fashion. 

"You sent me to the coldest, most miserable planet in the galaxy. What did I do to deserve this?"

"Did you make a wrong turn at the Rischi Maze and end up on Hoth?" The master's mischievous grin turned into a thoughtful look before she added, "Selvax is hardly the coldest planet in the galaxy."

"The second coldest."

"Third, I believe." Giant snowflakes rippled through the holographic figure causing it to briefly destabilize.

Siri growled, tugging at her cloak. Even with the thermal suit under her tunic, it did little to ease the miserable frost that cut deep to her bones. "Master, I am sure there are more important missions I could be attending to," she said in a more diplomatic tone. 

"This is an extremely important mission, my padawan."

"I mean rescue missions, infiltrating slave rings or chasing raiders. I'll even take a diplomatic assignment." She wanted to scream, well, actually she was all ready doing that to hear herself over the howling winds. "Not hunting relics!" Was she complaining too much? It was unbecoming of a Jedi, but she was cold, very cold. She had been asked to do many things in her young life, all of which were in the aid of those who needed help. The tragedy was that she could be helping but instead has been assigned to a menial task of hunting junk shops for a lost lightsaber. Certainly there had to be someone–anyone–else more qualified to do that. A senior padawan, perhaps?

"Yes, this is a punishment," Adi said shattering the freezing Jedi's reverie.

"I knew it," Siri shot back then realized that she was just being humored. She had lost the argument even before it begun otherwise she wouldn't be standing there. 

"Padawan," Adi said seriously, her blue image shifting in the flurries. "The Prak'sha is important. It is a piece of who we were, who we are. It must be preserved and protected."

Hearing the words, or rather the tone in which they had been spoken, Siri knew that it was not just any mission even if she did not understand reasoning behind it. Since when has the Council been entirely clear about anything?

Adi raised a finely sculpted brow.

Ignoring the silent reaction, Siri swore to herself that she would find this lightsaber and bring it back to the Temple where it belonged. Meeting her master's gaze she caught a brief smile caressing the Corellian's lips. Tugging at the edges of her cowl, Siri hid an unhappy look and obediently nodded. "Yes, Master," she replied. 

Yes, the Prak'sha was important. 

"Have faith, my padawan, at least you are not taking on this mission alone."


	2. 

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Chapter Two

The damp, dark interior of the Yerindi Tavern, the closest drinking establishment to the landing pads, did little to hide the grime that was prevalent over every surface. The denizens spoke in hushed tones, preferring their drinks to conversation, with only the occasional burst of laughter from a spacer with a story or two to tell. 

The somber mood in the large chamber with a bar in the center stocked with the strongest, foulest concoctions in the galaxy was as about as bright as the poor lighting.

Callused fingers danced over an unwashed top tucked into a quiet corner. Patrons that had breezed in with the cold had made sure to keep a distance from the quiet drinker. Warm fingertips brushed up along the cool edge of a smoky glass that held a clear blue liquid. Raising the drink just off the somewhat sticky table and holding it frozen in the air before setting it back on the table with a thud and a splash. The roving fingers left the glass and sought out a data pad that sat nearby.

The barest touch activated the darkened screen. Silently scrolling through the notes, there was a thoughtful pause then a simple entry was made.

"Even half a galaxy away you are planning more tortures for your padawan," Siri teased as she approached the table.

"One day you will know the joy of having a padawan."

"Do I detect sarcasm, Master Kenobi?" 

"Of course not. Anakin will be pleased to take in a few of my lessons after spending some time under Master Yoda's watch."

"If nothing else, he will have an appreciation for gruel." She pulled her hood back, revealing wind whipped short blond locks. Gloved fingers lightly combed her hair into a less wild appearance before ripping the other chair back from the table. Twisting it up on a leg, she spun it about and flopped down, straddling the metal shape. Propping an elbow on the rigid chair back, she languidly stretched out and plucked the glass of blue tinged liquid up. "I see you have graduated to the harder stuff."

"When in Selvax," the ginger haired Jedi replied, snatching the glass back, "do as the Selvaxian's do." Laughing blue eyes met Siri's before he downed the contents of the glass and slapped it to the table. 

Drawing the dark edges of her cloak over the lightly patterned tunic she wore for protection against the winter weather, she growled, "Well, I for one do not plan on freezing like the Selvaxian's do."

"This is one of the few warm days of the solar year," Obi-Wan replied, pausing once more to make another notation in the data pad.

Siri made a slight face but said nothing. Instead, she chose to silently study the other Jedi. It had been months since their last encounter in the Temple and that was just a brief passing. Obi-Wan had been racing through the main corridor a step behind his apprentice, Anakin Skywalker, as they chased after a malfunctioning cleaning bot with Master Yoda's gimer stick wedged in the control panel. 

The man before her was hardly the boy she had felt so intent on competing with in her youth. Much had changed over the years and with it so had they. Her time answering to Krayn had only hardened her to the cruelties in the galaxy and fortified her need to break each one down as she came across them. Even as a fresh knight, she had already branded herself as a maverick amongst Jedi. 

But while she was traipsing across the galaxy in the guise of a slaver's henchman, Obi-Wan Kenobi had continued his training as most padawans would. Continued until a mission killed his master and turned him from student to teacher in the midst of a heartbeat. Six years of training a boy from the wilds of Tatooine had etched themselves in tender lines around his eyes, yet it never diminished the keenness in them. 

Pale blue flashed, focusing briefly on her. "What?" Obi-Wan asked as he deactivated the data pad. Leaning back in his chair, he casually slipped the thin device into the folds of his tunic. 

"I was just thinking you look old," she replied in a frank tone. 

With Obi-Wan's barely noticeable frown, she was about to say more but the words were disrupted by a flash of gray that rattled the table as something large landed atop the grimy surface. 

The drab material twisted wildly about as the shot glass was kicked across the room smashing into the wall with a startling sound and inspiring a quick reaction from several of the patrons. After a moment they settled back down to their drinks when the action did involve them.

The two Jedi remained unimpressed by the cloaked figure's display before flopping down on the center of the table. "Don't see Jedi here often. On a mission?" a girlish voice asked from beneath the drawn cowl. 

"Excuse us," Siri growled, vaguely noting that Obi-Wan remained unflustered by the scene. There was no immediate threat through the Force so she chose not to draw any more attention to their table. Around the room she could feel tensions suddenly running high.

A red skinned hand reached from one of the billowing sleeves and waved wildly at Siri. Bangles danced about on her wrist with long fingers ending in bright blue fingernails. "You don't scare me, mind witch," the voice chirped. 

Twisting away from Siri, the interloper leaned forward, focusing on Obi-Wan. The oversized hood, much like the cloak itself, easily concealed the nature of the being inside. "I know all about Abligar Station," she said. "Ask me anything. I am very helpful."

"No thank you," Obi-wan said easily, his gaze shifting ever so slightly to calm Siri before offering a slight wave of his hand. "We are not in need of assistance."

Giggles rippled from beneath the cloak. "I can assist you," she purred. 

Siri straightened at the lack of effect the mind trick had.

"I am Janua. I am helpful." Leaning forward a little more, the cowl pulled back revealing a Twi'lek. Hints of baby fat clung to her youthful features but she was not a child. Bright, predatory eyes searched Obi-Wan's before breaking into a smile. "I am Janua. I am helpful."

"I am sure you are," Obi-Wan replied.

Before he could say more to the Twi'lek, she cried out in surprise as she was ripped from the table. 

"Go!" Siri barked. She wanted to be on with this mission and had little time to deal with one of Abligar station's entertainments. She had seen many creatures like Janua populating the darker corners of taverns and cantinas. They made their living offering their bodies for a few credits, or they cheated and murdered anyone who could be taken in by the comely appearances to eek out an existence. 

Janua was still young and appearing innocent enough that she had not taken to the darker undertones of the trade.

"We have no need of your services," she growled to the girl. "Go find an honest living, it will keep you alive much longer."

The red skinned Twi'lek barked in the harsh Rylothian tones, flicked an aggravated hand at the female Jedi and sauntered off. 

"She could have been helpful," Obi-Wan said as Siri returned to her chair. 

"Helpful? She should try to help herself in ways other than trying to relieve someone of their credits. She could have robbed you–"

"I doubt that." 

The front doors of the cantina opened allowing in more customers and a blast of cold wind with them. Siri shivered. "I hate this place."

"You have not been here long enough to hate it."

"I have been to places like this. I have seen it from the side Jedi don't see. Besides, it is cold. I don't like cold." She pulled at her cloak seeking a little warmth and wishing to get on with the mission. She was eager to get it over with and find a nice warm world to relax on for a while.

"Hands off!" Janua's upset voice called out over the soft din of the tavern.

Siri twisted to see what kind of trouble the Twi'lek was stirring up now but was greeted by the image of the small, gray cloaked figure surrounded by three tall men, their dark skin nearly indistinguishable against the deep browns and blacks of their militaristic clothing. 

"Leave me alone," Janua growled, pulling free of a large hand that gripped her arm above the elbow. "Not bothering anyone."

Offering up a sigh, Siri knew she could not just leave the feisty Twi'lek to fend them off alone. She easily rose from her seat. 

Only a step toward the scene, Obi-Wan caught her wrist and pulled her back. She twisted, a spike of irritation running through her, but it eased at the sight of Obi-Wan's calm look. "What?" 

"Sit back down," came the soft but firm answer.

She looked back at Janua still struggling to break free of the three men. One of which, shot Siri a curious look. In the dim lighting, she caught sight of the silvery pattern tattooed across his forehead.

"Sit down," Obi-Wan repeated without looking up or loosening his grip on her wrist. 

"Golians?" she whispered.

"Y'Begaar."

The sound of the word caused a stone to form in her stomach as she quickly sank to her seat. Twisting to face the center of the table, she lowered her gaze in the fashion of so many other tavern patrons. It might have been un-Jedi like, even childish, but her previous life undercover had taught her much, especially who to fear. Sensing Obi-Wan's serene gaze focused on her, she spoke softly. "Krayn always avoided Y'Begaar controlled territories. I never saw one but I knew to be afraid."

"I'm leaving! I'm leaving!" Janua defiantly snapped.

"Now if only you would leave Selvax," one of three boomed. It was meant for all to hear. "Lawlessness is no longer tolerated here."

"I don't think you will be that lucky," the Twi'lek shot back before being shoved out of the tavern.


	3. 

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Chapter Three

Moving with the same calm and ease as if they were in the Temple, the two Jedi walked side-by-side through the fighting winds and over the snow swept path leading to the recently redefined center of the station. The old warehouses that had sheltered the darker trades and black markets of Abligar Station—a hive of scum and villainy in system of civilized worlds—had been cleared away in favor of the sleek, utilitarian architecture of the head house of the Selvaxian Regional Magistrate. 

Rising before the two hooded figures were the domineering gates of the heavily fortified, circular compound but there was only so much that a structure could do. The menacing sight was completed by the presence of the heavily armed Y'Begaar soldiers stationed about.

Men and women of all ages shared the same dark skin of their Golian heritage and wore their hair in tightly woven braids pulled back with simple leather straps as befitting their clan. Intricately designed silver tattoos covered their foreheads indicating their family. 

To Obi-Wan's sharp gaze, there were only two families represented, which from his experience with them as a padawan, Y'Begaar clans held at least five families of similar belief. 

He wondered why this one was different.

Stopping at the sealed gates, the two Jedi bowed in unison in front of the blaster rifle wielding gatekeepers. Before either could speak, the sound of metal grinding against metal filled the air as the mechanism of the heavy door was immediately put into action. For its size and width, the door easily swung open revealing a lone figure awaiting their arrival. 

The woman that greeted them was as tall and easily as domineering as the gatekeepers and was dressed and tattooed in the same manner with the exception of gold paint highlighting the skin around her eyes. "Were you anything but Jedi, I would ask what gods you offended to be sent here," she said in a rich Golian accent. 

"Apparently only the Jedi Council," Obi-Wan replied in an affable tone. He could almost sense Siri's silent groan through the Force. While her exterior appeared calm, he could feel emotions raging beneath the surface.

The woman laughed then bowed in a curt fashion as was accustomed to the Golian culture. Then stepping forward, she greeted the Jedi. "I am Iridian Wakava, Magistrate of the Selvax Protectorate."

Both Jedi bowed before Obi-Wan introduced them. "I am Obi-Wan Kenobi and this is Siri Tachi."

"Welcome, Masters Kenobi and Tachi, welcome to Abligar Station." With the sweep of her arm, she guided the frozen Jedi into the warm shelter of the compound. 

To his side, Obi-Wan felt Siri relax once a bath of heated air surrounded them but it only lasted until the gates behind were sealed.

Iridian guided them quietly through the outermost ring of the head house. Under the warmth of nearly natural lighting, Obi-Wan was pleased to find a great garden flourishing. Exotic vegetation from Golia grew from the walls and terraces built in rich soil. The smell reminded Obi-Wan of the gardens in the Temple making him long for home and a padawan who was not fond of the great variety of fruits and vegetables that eventually ended up on his plate. 

The tall woman remained silent as she led the Jedi across a narrow foot bridge, one of many that could be seen at the visible edges of the gently curving structure. Obi-Wan glanced across at Siri and offered a gentle smile at the other Jedi's unspoken wonderment even if worry did cling to Siri's aura. 

Entering the next ring, they were surrounded by a comfortable common area filled with simple wood furniture where quiet social gatherings were taking place. Children giggled and race between the Jedi. Small footfalls moved quickly over the warmed stone floor as they continued their game. 

Obi-Wan turned to follow the trail of the small children, their short hair already being groomed into the tiny braids. Their game had them climbing over the tables and mock shooting each other with invisible blasters. He had met and seen Y'Begaar throughout the Republic but he had never been inside a protectorate house; never seen how they lived when not on duty. The house followed a similar layout as most Golian settlements, but was smaller, more protected. It had to be because houses like this were only established in the worst of places throughout the galaxy. For Y'Begaar roughly translated into the Basic as "war family" and it was family. Cousins, siblings, spouses, and children were all a part of the military force.

"Move it!" Iridian barked, sending several figures scattering out of their way. 

Siri's hand brushed against Obi-Wan's elbow causing him to pay a little more attention to the men Iridian had barked at, the same men whom they had witnessed in the tavern harassing the Twi'lek.

The magistrate turned slightly and her gaze met one of the men's eyes. "Come, Ekaro." Shaking her head in mild frustration, she added, "Some days it seems more crowded than others, but I suppose that is the curse of setting up a base of operations on the coldest world in seven systems."

Into yet another ring and down the curving corridor, they arrived at the Magistrate's office. Before the large door swung closed behind the Jedi, Iridian and Ekaro, three other figures silently slipped in. Ekaro, two women and a boy took silent position around the room. 

At his side, Obi-Wan sensed Siri grow unusually tense even though he felt no warnings in the Force. He offered up a small pulse hoping she would sense it. She would not likely be calmed by it but maybe just the knowledge that he was aware would help. 

Still, two Jedi against five Y'Begaar were in a losing situation. They were highly trained warriors and one experienced soldier was more than capable of offering a Jedi a good fight.

Iridian took her place behind a simple desk that matched most of the utilitarian furniture the Jedi had seen on their walk through the compound. The sweep of a dark hand directed the Jedi to the bench placed before the desk. 

Once Obi-Wan and Siri had taken their places, the magistrate asked, "What brings Jedi to our lonely part of the galaxy?"

"We are on a recovery mission," Obi-Wan replied.

The magistrate leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. "Not a check up? I figured the Senate would still be grumbling that the Mirnax Federation brought us in to clean up this cesspool."

"We are not apprised of all the actions within the Senate," Siri said. She smiled slightly as she continued, "Anything that overrides Senate boycotts and filibusters would annoy them, but we are not the harbingers of their wrath."

Iridian gave a bold laugh, "Yes, but we always expect it. We are not well liked for our service." There was a moment. "I suppose you Jedi can sympathize."

A slight nod of Obi-Wan's head was the only answer offered. Reaching out across the Force, he brushed against Siri's tightened shields then scanned the room. The boy was nervous and inexperienced but the two unnamed women were like Iridian Wakava, cool and totally at home with the situation. The man, Ekaro, he could not entirely tell.

The magistrate's gaze narrowed as she carefully studied the two Jedi before her. "What then, may I ask, are you here to recover?"

Siri leaned forward and spoke evenly, "We have information that an ancient lightsaber has passed through the local black market and we are appointed to make sure it does not fall into the wrong hands and is returned to the Temple safely."

The words were honest enough, spoken with only the frankness that Siri Tachi could deliver. Unfortunately, it was laid as a challenge before the magistrate. 

Iridian glared at Siri. "Are you suggesting this is due to our failure to handle certain lawlessness in the region?" 

Siri straightened in her seat.

Fire burned in Iridian's dark eyes. "I assure you, illegal trade has been shut down here on Selvax."

Scanning the chamber, the Golians at the edge were calm except for Ekaro, who had grown physically tense.

A powerful silence spread throughout the room.

"Those markets have been closed down," Iridian tersely repeated as she suddenly stood.

"I—"

Obi-Wan and Ekaro reacted to their respective woman. 

"She was not saying that," Ekaro's deep voice boomed as he grasped Iridian's arm. "Sit down, sister."

Iridian growled, "Don't you have that witch on Xim to tend to, little brother?"

"In time."

Pale blue eyes shot Siri a warning and the young knight's expression softened when she looked to Obi-Wan. She relaxed her rigid pose, her posture ready to spring into action rather than broken.

Turning back to Iridian and Ekaro, Obi-Wan spoke in his soothing Core accent, "There was no insult meant. We come here solely to ask your permission to conduct our investigation into the whereabouts of the lightsaber called the Prak'sha. The information we have is it moved through the local markets. It might not even be recognized as a lightsaber, its last recorded use was a millennia ago and it may have suffered greatly over the centuries since." Adopting a more formal pose, the Jedi continued. "We have been charged by the High Council to retrieve it. Knight Tachi is anxious to get on with the mission, we both are." He felt a sharp spike emanate from Siri at his words but ignored her. He would hear about it later. 

Multiple times.

He had imagined this would be a relaxing mission with Anakin safely ensconced in the Jedi Temple, but a bad feeling was growing with every passing minute.

Iridian nodded curtly in understanding, apparently appeased. "You are welcome to go about your investigation as you see fit. You have the use of my people, should you need their expertise. She motioned toward the man beside her, "Captain Ekaro Kinyo is well versed in the local culture."

Ekaro nodded in agreement.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, pausing until Siri nodded in agreement. 

Then the captain stepped back from the desk as Iridian spoke up again. "It is not safe in the station. There are still certain elements that have not been brought under control and I suspect you would appreciate warm nights and no nosy innkeepers."

"Thank you," Siri said, rising to her feet. 

"My brother will show you to appropriate quarters."


	4. 

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Chapter Four

The Jedi followed Ekaro through the plain corridors as they gently curved along the structure's design. Siri stared at the unadorned walls, thinking it reminded her of much of the Jedi Temple. Designed to minimize distraction and remain focused on their dedication to the Force. A part of her entertained the idea that maybe the Jedi and the Y'Begaar were not so different.

Deep down she knew different.

When they were far out of reach of the Magistrate's office, Ekaro finally spoke up. "You will have to forgive Iridian. She means well but this is her life and she often takes innocent comments far too seriously."

"I meant no insult," Siri said as she lengthened her stride to keep close to Ekaro. 

Obi-Wan trailed a few steps behind, hands tucked in the billowing folds of his cloak while quietly observing the simple architecture. Siri caught the serene look that graced his features and wondered how he could be so calm in every situation.

"If you had looked at a speck of dust in the corner, she would have accused you of thinking she kept a sloppy household," Ekaro continued. The tall man turned back to Siri and offered a friendly grin. The long thin braids bound at the back of his head twisted and snagged on broad shoulders. 

In the warm air, all of Siri's thermal clothing was beginning to make her feel hot and allowed her formerly pulled tight cloak to drape open. Her eyes narrowed as she folded her arms across her chest, her gaze falling to the sandy colored floor.

The words had been building in her since entering the compound. The thoughts grew more powerful during the meeting with Iridian. "May I ask you a question?" she abruptly cut into the silence of the long corridor. 

"Of course," Ekaro said as he guided them into a residential sector.

Behind her, she sensed the usually unflappable Obi-Wan Kenobi become silently alarmed but she paid him no attention, keeping her attention on Captain Kinyo. "Why?"

There was no hesitation in the Golian's step. "Why do we travel from our home and set up protectorate's in crime filled systems? We do it because there is a need for order. Why do you, Jedi?"

"We know no different," she replied. "Jedi are trained from infancy to serve the Republic."

"Then we are not so different," Ekaro said in his deep, accented Basic. "Except that family is our strength. We are not taken from our families. Our families are the Y'Begaar. Upon birth we are initiated into the ways of the group. We learn to be soldiers, protectors of those who cannot stand up for themselves."

Siri stopped in the middle of the hall. "By slaughtering the Aubendor? What about the crew of the _Morikai Angel_? The Black Palla?"

"They were pirates, slavers and murderers." Ekaro looked her over, but no hint of anger or irritation colored his features. "The Galactic Senate is hopelessly locked in childish bickering and futile attempts at enforcing pointless laws. All so some governments and its senators can make a hefty profit on the suffering of others. You Jedi are overwhelmed and it is only growing worse. The longer we wait, the more powerful these criminals become, the more innocents that will die. 

"You Jedi of anyone should understand that. The breaking of the Black Palla syndicate freed nearly 800 Okala captives that had been turned into slaves in the Neridian Spice mines. Should we have waited until the Senate deemed fit to listen to the Okala representative? Okal is not a powerful world. Their chances to address the Senate were routinely bumped in favor of worlds that are more influential. In desperation, they asked the Y'Begaar for assistance in policing their territories and we have."

"The Black Palla should have been held and brought to justice," Siri argued, shifting her weight slightly. At the edge of her mind, she thought it was odd that Obi-Wan had not intervened but she had faith that he soon would.

"Creatures like that do not understand nor care about law. They only understand fear," Ekaro said, yet nothing in his dark eyes gave a glimmer that he was unhappy with the line of questioning.

How could he be so unfeeling about it?

Obi-Wan's hand tightened around her left arm, just above the elbow. She pulled free of the unspoken warning. "Fear only works for those who suffer it," she stated, never allowing her gaze to fall from the tall man.

Ekaro briefly studied her then smiled. "You have seen our work first hand."

"I have seen what your people did to the _Morikai Angel_."

He folded his arms across his chest in a domineering fashion before speaking. "The Y'Begaar's Torbon Protectorate made their point clear. Even the slaver, Krayn, steered clear."

"The captain of the _Morikai Angel_ and his crew were driven onto stakes surrounding the Jamboli Market. They were crucified. Weeks later, some were still alive!" The horror high in her voice as the haunting images she thought buried reemerged.

She had been desperately trying to earn Krayn's trust–something she never truly achieved–when they stopped off at Ja'ram Station for some reason at the time she was not informed of. She did not impress the notorious slaver when she vomited upon seeing the captain and his crew staked and left for all to see. Krayn had been furious as she later learned the _Morikai Angel_ had been whom Krayn was to meet with.

The Rysekian first mate had still been alive. His four legs twitching, prehensile toes gripping desperately at the stake that jutted from his abdomen. Warnings were carved into all the posts telling anyone who could read the spilled entrails that this fate awaited all criminals. 

No matter what information Krayn demanded of him, the Rysekian just kept begging for death. Whatever the creature had done in life, there was no crime worth such a horrible death. She had answered the first mate's wish with a single blaster shot.

"A death like that was far to quick for their crimes."

"They lived long enough," Siri said coldly. 

Unflustered by Siri's biting words, Ekaro turned to study the other quiet Jedi and laughed. "Seems we both suffer fiery women."

"Siri's duties have led her to the darker regions of the galaxy," Obi-Wan simply replied. "Her experiences color spirit."

"I see," Ekaro said thoughtfully before walking again. With the Jedi in tow, he continued. "I understand your feelings, Knight Tachi, but you must understand Jedi have advantages we do not."

"You are a very technologically advanced people," Obi-Wan spoke up again.

"We do not have access to the Force. What people do not understand, they fear. You are feared because you possess something no one could hope too. We must earn fear in the ways we can."

Stopping at the edge of intersecting corridors, Ekaro paused as several small children raced passed. "It seems strange," he said, changing the subject, "that Jedi would come here hunting antiques with all the turmoil rising in the galaxy."

"It is an important artifact," Obi-Wan answered, taking the lead in the conversation.

For once, Siri was grateful as she dropped back to Obi-Wan's side.

"Do you believe that, or are you just told that?" the Golian questioned.

"The Council believes it to be of great historical importance. That and an order to retrieve it is all we are required to do our duty."

"Lightsabers are worth a great deal in any markets," Ekaro said. After a moment of thought, he continued, "In the morning, I suggest you go the Bin'hai Market. I doubt it is still there, but the sellers would have heard about it, they might even tell you for the right price."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said with a nod.

At a tall arched doorway, Ekaro paused, and then pushed the door open allowing it to gracefully swing inwards. "Your room, for as long as you need it."

"Thank you." Obi-Wan humbly bowed.

Siri glanced into the small quarters and noted they were as plain as the rest of the head house.

Ekaro nodded and started to walk away but paused. "One more piece of advice if I may?" 

"Of course," the ginger haired man replied.

"Keep that Twi'lek, Janua, at arms length. She is a pickpocket and more trouble than you are looking for."

"If so, why did you let her go in the cantina?" Siri asked, her bright blue eyes still possessing their fire.

"She is nothing compared to the man she answers to. If we can use her to track him down, then her continued freedom is worth it. For now."


	5. 

****

Chapter Five

Inside the small cell that passed for guest quarters, Obi-Wan pushed the door closed and turned to stare at Siri who stood quietly in the center of the sparse room surrounded by only a narrow cot, chair and desk. "You are going to make us very unwelcome, very quickly," he said sternly, half feeling as if he were lecturing Anakin.

The blond haired Jedi spun about and incredulously glared at the calm man. Her offense to his remark plainly visible in the hostile stance she took. Her hands clenched in and out of fists. "You have not seen–"

"I am quite aware of their intimidation tactics," he said folding his arms across his chest in a well-worn fashion. Sighing, he closed his eyes. Siri may have been a lot of things, but he truly believed that if she were picking a fight it was for a reason. "If there is something wrong–"

"No," she said quickly. The harsh lines of her expression softened. "I have just seen too much."

For an instant, as brief in passing as it was, Obi-Wan thought he saw something uncertain flutter in Siri's usually bright gaze. Concerned, he took a step closer and pressed a comforting hand to her warm shoulder. He expected her to pull away, but after a second of tenseness, she relaxed. "Siri–"

"Don't do me like Adi," she grumbled turning to stare at him. "She is always asking me what happened. Maybe I don't want to talk about it."

"About what?" 

Siri's yes widened briefly, the mask she often hid behind losing its focus and revealing that she realized error. "Nothing."

"Maybe you should talk about it."

She pulled away from him, crossing the small gray room they were to share. "We have a mission–"

"Siri."

Abruptly turning, she glared at Obi-Wan, frustration bleeding into her expression. "Leave it be."

"You brought this up."

She bit back. "You are just like your master, listening to no one but himself."

"It is not the first time I have been accused of that," he said quickly, not wanting to hear her other thoughts vocalized. "Besides, he listened to the Force, himself and then no one else. If you are going to insult his honor, do it correctly." 

When she opened her mouth to say something more, Obi-Wan realized that he too had said more than he had intended and quickly busied himself. He carried his pack to the small desk and chair in the corner opposite the private fresher unit.

In the warmth of the room, Obi-Wan pulled the flowing material of his reddish brown cloak free of his shoulders and gently folded it over the chair back. Behind him, the soft creak and shift of cloth drew his attention.

Turning, he noticed that Siri had planted herself in the center of the narrow cot that made up the final piece of furniture in the room. She brushed her fingers over the drab material of a second unfurled bedroll at the foot of the bed. Squeezing the combination of weaves, she checked the firmness of the non-existent mattress. "Hmm, not the most comfortable," she said softly, "but it will do." Grinning, as if oblivious to the conversation moments ago, she glanced up meeting Obi-Wan's concerned gaze. "So where are you going to sleep?"

"The floor apparently."

Siri leaned back against the wall, seductively crossing one leg over the other and with one of her booted toes, pointed toward a wide space on the floor. Whatever had been bothering her was now hidden behind her eyes and sealed away under tight mental shielding. "I could share," she lightly teased, "but it would be a little crowded. It is an awful narrow bed. A tight squeeze."

Ignoring her game, Obi-Wan sank to the chair and took a moment to take in the drab room. It was no more interesting than the snowy surroundings outside, save that it was warm. "This is a common quarters," he dully stated. "Generally, two share the room, one on duty and the off. They do not need two cots, just two bedrolls."

"How do you know so much about them?" she asked, straightening.

He leaned into the wooden back of the chair, propping his elbow on it. "About eleven years ago, Qui-Gon and I were assigned to see to a trade dispute on Duram. It was under the watch of a local protectorate." He stared at her for a time, his own thoughts drifting to the memory of his master who had once seemed so invincible. Pushing the uncalled images to the side, he trudged on through the tale. "Members of the Forthian Federation were trying to bring the Banese trade route to a halt through terrorist attacks so they could seize control and charge their own route fees. The Banese implored the Senate for Jedi intervention. They did not trust the Y'Begaar, believing they were aligned with the Forthians and turning a blind eye to the ongoing attacks. It was to everyone's best interest that we worked with the Y'Begaar. They were no more conspirators with the Forthians than we were. They had been placed to sheriff the region and had been investigating the terrorist attacks for some time and were closing in as well as possessing a detailed dossier on the Forthian sect responsible for the attacks."

"What did they do to them?" Siri expectantly asked jumping ahead in the story. 

"Most members of the sect were killed during the raid on their compound. It was shoot to kill except for the highest-ranking officers. They were to be taken alive." He was quiet for a few moments, but in Siri's waiting gaze, he sensed she knew what he was going to say next. "Those that survived underwent questioning until they revealed everything they knew or died." There was another pause then he continued to speak from a place where he had stripped such memories of emotion and all that remained was a mental report of only facts. "Qui-Gon convinced the Y'Begaar Magistrate to turn over what was left of the survivors to the Republic for trial."

Siri fingered the edge of her cloak. "Oh." Anger flushed her aura briefly. "Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you agree or disagree? Why didn't you argue out in the corridor?"

"What am I supposed say? I cannot judge them even if I disagree with their ways."

"They are wrong."

"From a certain point of view. In their culture, what they are doing is not considered wrong."

Her expression softened as her gaze turned from the other Jedi to the walls of the room.

Obi-Wan remained quiet for a time realizing he should have been a little more understanding instead of just snapping at her in the beginning. He knew she was still struggling to find her footing as a knight and her place in the Jedi Order. Her time undercover had made the transition from apprentice to knight extremely difficult. He could appreciate it; after all, he was still struggling even after six years of knighthood.

Of being a master. 

"I will try to be" her voice trailed off.

"Less antagonistic?"

She grimaced. "Yes, if that is how you want to put it."

"Yes."


	6. 

****

Chapter Six

Siri growled as she sifted her position, drawing her legs up on the cot. "The sooner we get this mission over, the sooner I can leave this frozen wasteland."

"It is not so bad."

"Says you. I'm freezing."

"You do not look so cold now."

Roughly, she tugged at the edge of her cloak in an exaggerated action. Then she reached into the folds of the dark material and produced an ultra thin data reader. 

Obi-Wan remained still, watching her scroll through the mission file. A little worried that she jumped from one discussion to another so quickly as if she were running from something inside. She had not always been like that. At least he had never noticed it, not in the times they had bumped into each other in the Temple, not since the end of her undercover assignment to take down the slaver. The change was more recent, he thought.

"I always thought the Prak'sha was a myth," she muttered, leaning forward slightly but never offering to move from the center of the cot.

"The lightsaber itself is real. The legend surrounding it may be another matter." He did not need to peruse the mission file. He had gone over it quite extensively on the transport to Selvax. The legend had always held a place in his heart.

A youngling's tale filled with verifiable facts.

Every little initiate for many generations had been told the tale of the Prak'sha. Woken from a good night's sleep, the younglings would be led from their rooms, through the quiet Temple to the Great Assembly Hall. Glow rods and lanterns the only light allowed. 

Obi-Wan always been certain the initiate supervisors had chosen the hall for the resonance it gave their voices as they told the story. 

He could still remember Masters Na'tho and Triamvar herding their groups of sleepy and excited younglings together. Na'tho sitting among a few of the youngest initiates while the tall and beautiful Togruta, Triamvar, walked about the circle in her flowing robes. 

While other younglings drowsily obeyed their teachers, a six-year-old Obi-Wan and his best friend Garen wiggled in excitement, eager for adventure. He still remembered looking into the darkened chamber, filled with a thousand shadows from the small lights the masters had brought with them.

The race of his heart when Master Triamvar stepped to the center of the circle and placed a single lantern on the floor before retreated beyond the line of small bodies. The other lanterns went out leaving only the one in the center of the room. Beautiful white light cascaded from the center of the circle. 

Looking up from her data reader, Siri broke into a wide grin and smoothly waved a hand about in the air. "Let me tell you a story of old," she said in high, formal voice, much like the one Triamvar had spoken with as she voiced similar memories. 

Laughing, Obi-Wan settled into the chair. "They were not much for originality."

"They were entertaining sleepy six-year-olds."

The somber mood in the room lifted with shared smiles and memories of Triamvar's story. 

Dormus Escario was a Jedi Master Historian who lived nearly five thousand years earlier. More than a thousand years before the age that would be remembered for Jedi like Nomi Sunrider.

The scholar, Dormus, had spent many long years researching and collecting the myriad stories and histories attributed to the ancient Bendu monks. He had believed that were they not gathered and preserved would be lost to time. He felt that the Jedi were the sum of their whole and they could not be complete missing so much of their early history. 

His works formed the basis of what would eventually become the Temple library.

Consumed by the teachings of the early Bendu mystics that first explored the Force, Dormus abandoned the civilized world choosing to live many decades as a hermit.

"This is where the legend begins," Siri said, the skepticism heavy in her voice.

"You cannot imagine he would look younger upon reemerging from his self imposed exile?"

"I think it was confusion. Seven decades is a long time and many who would have known him would have passed on into the Force by then." She shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe someone thought he looked young for a two hundred-year-old Ryemeol and it got confused in all the retellings."

"Possibly."

Siri laughed meeting the curious blue eyes of the other Jedi. "Don't tell me, you are taken in by all the legends and myths surrounding the Prak'sha. I thought better of you, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Dormus Escario serenely entered a galaxy more unsettled than the one he had left. Undaunted he called a council of Jedi and told them of his many experiences while in solitude. The old master told them that after many decades of listening to the Force, he had heard its true voice singing to him. He told of the many conversations he had held with those long in the Force. His conversations with Aben Tel'Urotth, an ancient Bendu philosopher whose writings had formed the early basis of the Jedi Code.

"In those turbulent times, his stories were widely dismissed as the ravings of a madman. They thought he was visiting sacrilege on the dead in order to push his own ideas." Obi-Wan leaned forward slightly, his eyes cast to the floor remembering how sad he felt learning that the wise old Jedi had been mocked, scorned and nearly forgotten for following the will of the Force. For doing what Jedi spent their entire lives doing, listening and answering the call of the eternal energies that bound the universe together. "He probably would not even be remembered for cataloguing the Bendu histories if it were not for the story of the Prak'sha."

Driven back into exile for his unpopular claims, Dormus spent the next twenty years recounting the conversations with the long dead philosopher. Thousands of long and winding journal entries carried on Aben Tel'Urotth's writings, or at least that was what Dormus believed. Many rambling essays that explained the dual nature of the Force while claiming one could not exist without the other. Texts upon texts were written in Basic as well as the dead tongue of Benedaact, the scriptural language of the Bendu monks. 

"He had conversations with Force ghosts'," the blond haired Jedi said. "How could anyone claim to take him seriously?"

"Just because we have not seen one does not mean they do not exist," Obi-Wan calmly replied. 

Siri just looked at him, her bright blue eyes wide as if he had suddenly grown a second head and she was deciding which one to address.

"I cannot be so small minded. There is much in this universe that I have not seen, but I cannot dismiss it as simply not existing."

"I am hardly small minded," she retorted.

Obi-Wan offered up a mischievous smile. "Well–"

"Careful." Siri grabbed the second bedroll from the foot of the cot and pitched it at the ginger haired Jedi. 

Some years later, a Chalactan, Master Chak'Bra'Ikal, went in search of her former teacher after he had not been heard from in some time. Seeking out the hermitage Dormus had returned to after being derided by the Jedi he called family, Chak'Bra found the one room cell long devoid of an occupant. Her presence was the first to stir the accumulated dust in years.

Sitting at a simple desk and draped over the chair were the tunics and cloak that Dormus had been accustomed to wearing. Layered upon each other as if draped over flesh but no trace of the old master remained. In the lap of clothing, lay Dormus' lightsaber. 

"I think Master Triamvar made that part up."

"It is in all the documentation on the story. Chak'Bra'Ikal was believed to state everything as succinctly and truthfully as possible. Her essays on the Code Reformation do not give a lot of room for interpretation."

"You are just being difficult."

"I am stating a fact."

Chak'Bra took the weapon of her former teacher in hand, wondering why it had been abandoned. She had never seen Dormus without it even if he had never raised it in battle during his life.

"See, I just can't believe that," Siri argued as she shifted in her place on the cot allowing one foot to dangle over the edge.

"Believe what?"

"That Dormus never raised his saber in battle. How can you not do that?"

"Times were different." Obi-Wan stowed the rumpled bedroll on the floor next to his chair. "Some Jedi today have never raised their weapons except in practice."

"Then there those like us who can't suffer a mission without brandishing our blades at least once." There was something biting, hurt in her voice be she did nothing to elaborate on it.

In the silver body of the hilt, Chak'Bra found the vertical script of Benedaact carved into the smooth surface. 

_Peace may only be achieved through balance._

Carved around the emitter piece.

_The light is the beacon in the shadows._

Curving along the handgrip was another string of characters.

_May the Force be with you._

Obi-Wan studied Siri. Even in a semi-relaxed state, there was always that fire that burned in her. "Maybe this mission will be different."

"I doubt it."

In her own writings, archived in the Council of First Knowledge Tower, Chak'Bra wrote of calling out to the missing Jedi but received no answer. Fearful that some terrible fate had befallen Dormus, she started to search for the old Jedi.

The instant she turned her back to the table and the abandoned robes and lightsaber, she wrote that the room filled with the most brilliant of light. It was blinding before she turned around to face the source. 

"It reeks of a ghost story pawned off on initiates to scare them into being good."

"Just because that is how the initiate supervisors used it, doesn't invalidate it."

"You just love this story."

"Yes, I do," Obi-Wan said with a grin as battle roughened fingers smoothed out the ginger hairs of his beard. "We all need some fantasy."

"There is too much reality to worry about drifts of imagination." 

"It reminds me of the simplicity of being an initiate," came a soft reply. "When stories like this were believable because one did not have the experience of life to dissect and destroy them."

Until the day of her death, Chak'Bra swore that she had faced the ethereal form of Dormus Escario wielding the pale blue blade of his lightsaber. The shimmering white Force ghost answered none of the Chalactan's startled questions. Without ever speaking a word, the Jedi's spirit reached out and offered the hilt to the stunned woman. 

_We must seek Balance, for there can truly be no light_

Chak'Bra gripped the offered hilt.

_without dark._

The mysterious light and the image of the missing Jedi Master vanished, retuning to the shadows of the dimly lit room. Startled by what she had witnessed, Chak'Bra took up the mess of hand written pages of philosophy and code that should be honored, as well as the lightsaber that was possessed of a brilliant light and fled the hermitage.

"And in five thousand years, outside of tales involving the lightsaber no one has seen a Force ghost since?" Sir interrupted folding her arms across her chest as if daring Obi-Wan to argue with her. After a long silence, she grinned when Obi-Wan did not defend against her statement.

"Those who have seen the Force ghosts associated with the Prak'sha believe what they have seen."

"Dead Jedi do not haunt a lightsaber." Pressing into the wall, Siri added, "If they were going to haunt anything, don't you think it would be the Temple or at least something a little larger than a saber hilt?"

In the memory of the Great Assembly Hall, the memory of the lamp in the center of the ring went out and younglings squealed.

Rising from his seat, Obi-Wan paced the short room. "Whether it is true or not, the organization of Dormus' writings–be they his or the spiritual recitations of Aben Tel'Urotth–and the continuation through Chal'Bra'Ikal is the basis of much of the Jedi Code. It is interesting for that alone."

Deep inside, behind carefully constructed shields, Obi-Wan also admitted that the existence of the Prak'sha was frightening. He had spent many hours of his youth entranced by the stories surrounding the haunted lightsaber and the many great Jedi that defined the Order and who had possessed the weapon over the millennia. Nearly a dozen masters, knights and even a padawan had held the "brilliant light" in their grasp. Jedi, whose names were now etched in history for their service to the order.

Every time the ancient lightsaber resurfaced from oblivion it heralded the coming of a great trial to face the Jedi Order. In his heart, he hoped it was nothing but a rumor or hoax and the High Council was overreacting sending them on a wild buus chase.

He had all ready had enough of prophecies to last him a lifetime.

Sensing Siri's intense gaze upon his back and the question rising in the Force, he paused his pacing and without turning to face her, nodded toward the refresher unit. "They have hot running water."

The Force burbled with excitement. "Not when I'm finished," the female Jedi teased.

Obi-Wan turned to face a grinning Siri. Wicked smiles and a flurry of activity filled the small chamber as both Jedi sprung toward the open refresher door. 

"No fair!" Siri playfully growled as she slid into the open doorway and braced herself against the frame blocking Obi-Wan's access to the unit. "You were standing closer."

"No fair? I sat in that grubby tavern for an hour before you showed up," Obi-Wan growled trying to break her grip. Changing tactics, he wrapped strong arms around the young woman's waist. Siri struggled in his grip but he was too powerful and pulled her from the doorway.

"No! No!" Siri called out as she fought to hold onto the frame. "I want in there first." Twisting in the ginger haired Jedi's hold, she slid a long leg down and around the back of Obi-Wan's knee. Were it anyone else, she would have snapped the bones in his leg with ease, but she only moved to trip up her captor. 

Obi-Wan cried out in surprise as his leg was ripped from beneath him sending him tumbling to the floor with a dull thud.

The instant his grip had loosened, Siri threw herself out of his reach into the fresher. Turning about she offered a teasing laugh as she straightened her mussed tunic up. "You look like you could use a cold shower," she purred. Folding her arms across her chest, she mock shivered then sealed the door closed between them.

As Obi-Wan lay on the floor, the look of shock eased into a pleased grin. He bounded to his feet and straightened his own tunic and brushed fingers through his wavy locks. Remaining still just long enough to listen to the sound of falling water, he returned to his chair and picked up his cloak.

Then, placing Siri's data reader on the desk, he stretched out over the length of the still warm cot and draped his cloak across his legs. 

"She who takes shower first, sleeps on floor," he mumbled before drifting off to sleep.


	7. 

****

Chapter Seven

Stinging ice crystals slammed into the two Jedi as they pulled their cloaks tight to protect against the biting wind. Their pace was quick as they moved over the dusted path leading to the Bin'hai Market, a trading center that brought beings from all over the galaxy in search of new, used and rare goods. 

Siri pulled her hood down over her face with gloved fingers but allowed just enough of an opening to see into the white valley they were entering. At the base of the deep bowl shape cut into the snow pack rose a strange buzzing in the Force and it grew more powerful with every footstep down the sloping path.

Ice formed walls created the oblong shape of the Bin'hai Market. Its ceiling a powerful generator that formed an energy dome that could be expanded and retracted at will to serve the ever changing needs of the marketplace. 

Peering into the bright, white sky, Siri glanced over the shimmering dome that possessed a constant bluish discharge as it evaporated snowflakes that drifted too close to the shields.

With a slight twist in her step, she glanced over at her companion and stole a soft smile before burying her cold reddened face deeper into the billowing cowl. A small laugh bubbled up at the memory of the previous evening's activities. The look on Obi-Wan's face just as she flipped him out of the cot was priceless and it would go far to warm her on this cold world. 

Of course, she was certain revenge would be soon in coming. She would just have to keep her lightsaber handy.

Inside the gateway of the Bin'hai Market, Siri was relieved to find protection from the driving wind and bitter cold that had pounded them all along their walk to the nearby marketplace. Even though the air inside was still quite chilly, it was far more tolerable than the outside. 

Brushing the snow free from the rich brown of her cloak, she tugged at the material, so that it would drape over her form as it was designed and not pulled around her like a blanket. Choosing to keep her hands gloved in the chill air, she rubbed them together for a bit of warmth as her gaze swept across the bowl of the marketplace from their high vantage point. 

In the booths and crooked aisles that made up the large chamber, a myriad of alien species wandered about selling and shopping while quite a few members of the Y'Begaar quietly patrolled the footpaths. 

Sensing no immediate threat other than what was natural for a place like that, Siri abruptly announced, "Let's split up. We can cover more area quicker."

Obi-Wan, who had also brushed the snow free, turned to study her. After a moment, he silently nodded in agreement.

Laughing while she brushed her fingers through her short blond locks, Siri teased, "Are you still giving me the silent treatment? Don't pout, remember that Master Yoda is fond of saying–"

"Master Yoda would not have tossed me out of the cot and stolen it."

"After you stole it first," she corrected. 

"That was different." He grinned in return.

"Thank you for warming it up for me," she playfully purred flicking away a few snowflakes that had gathered in the fold of Obi-Wan's sleeve, then slinked off before he could do something to her. She could see it behind that cool Jedi mask that he was planning something.

Moving with the confident step of a Jedi Knight, she took the first path that opened to her. Passing silently among the makeshift booths that lined both sides of the gravel path, her senses noted the multitude of life forms that teemed all around her. This place was no different than any of the thousands of markets spread across the galaxy. 

Voices in all dialects and tongues called out to her. Heavily garmented figures held out trinkets and junk, shaking it as they bid her to take a look at their offerings. Wanting her to buy whatever overpriced item they were trying to pawn off.

For a time, the search was relatively pleasant. Her attentions drawn from the sellers and their wares to the Force as she searched its energies for the weapon of a Jedi. Along the way, she wondered if the Force could guide her to the lightsaber. Certainly it would be the will of the Force that it be found and returned to the Jedi Order. 

Rounding a corner and entering another row, the thought bubbled up inside that the Prak'sha was no longer there. And if it was not? Then what would they do?

Of course, that little voice inside whispered, it may never have existed at all. 

She hated that little voice, the one that pointed out all her flaws.

"Hey, pretty Jedi!" a gruff voice called from further down the aisle. 

Looking up, Siri was faced with an old, gray Toydarian flapping his small wings toward her. Quickly shifting her gaze away and silently praying to the Force to spare her, she focused her attention on a booth lined with spare parts from old speeders. 

"Pretty Jedi!" the Toydarian called out as he hovered close. "Come, pretty Jedi, I have perfumes. You like." He motioned to her.

Turning to face the squat gray figure that blocked her path, she announced, "I am not interest in shopping for perfumes."

"Pretty Jedi like you likes perfumes!" the foul smelling creature repeated. "The finest Banuumori Oils from Dalar! Pretty Jedi wants, yes?" He held out a small bottle to her. 

"No, thank you." It took all of her Jedi training to remain calm while wishing the repugnant creature and his bottled pheromones would go away. 

"Oils will make pretty Jedi irresistible to all beings. Yes, pretty Jedi wants?" He pushed the tiny crystal bottle with its red contents into Siri's face.

The disgusted Jedi retreated. "No," she repeated still trying to get out of his reach as he moved with her every step. "I do not want to buy anything."

"Pretty Jedi will be loved by many with these oils."

It was a common item found in the darker trades and completely legal under galactic law. Its legality did not make its uses less bothersome to the Jedi though. She wanted nothing to do with it and worse, feared what a single drop of the red liquid would do if the persistent dealer did not back off. 

Unwilling to give up, the Toydarian shook the bottle in Siri's face. "You want. I sell for good price." 

Spying the black cork that held the oil in she leapt back a step. Then with the slightest motion of her hand, she called to the Force and popped the cork from the bottle while simultaneously knocking it back causing the dealer's fat fingers to struggle and catch it. 

Red Banuumori Oil exploded all over the Toydarian.

"You should always check your bottles to make sure their lids are secure," she calmly told the stunned creature as red dripped all over his mottled gray skin.

"Eeeaaaggghh!" the Toydarian screamed struggling the wipe off the oil that was quickly absorbing into his rough flesh. 

The pungent odor caused Siri to withdraw even farther, drawing a cloaked hand over her nose to protect it from the stink. Certainly no creature could find such a foul stench pleasing. 

A warning spiked through the Force moments before a large green something barreled down the narrow walkway between the booths and nearly sent her crashing into a pile of broken power converters for TL-18 class land skiffs. She quickly out maneuvered the beast and landed in a crouch.

Half the creatures in the market drew their attention to the wailing Toydarian as he flew as fast as his wings would carry him. Beings all about howled and bayed as they took after the trader as he darted about in terror still trying to free himself of the red oil.

For a few moments, she remained crouched on the gravel packed ground until most of the action had left her area. Slowly straightening, Siri peered over the shops just in time to see the Toydarian flee the market trailed by twenty other beings.


	8. 

****

Chapter Eight

Walking at a relaxed pace, Obi-Wan moved along the other side of the fast marketplace, idly observing the collection of objects gathered from all about the galaxy. 

As time went on, the ginger haired Jedi found the air inside to be just as crisp and biting as it was outside minus the pelting moisture and wind. The thin, thermal gloves that matched his reddish-brown cloak were little defense against the cold. 

He had once imagined there was nothing worse than Tatooine with its indomitable heat and sandstorms but he would gladly accept that over a prolonged stay on ice world of Selvax.

Seeking what warmth he could, he buried his hands in the billowing sleeves of his cloak. The image it presented as well as a light shielding helped to cut down on the unwanted attention leaving him in peace to conduct his search. 

Pale blue eyes glided over the eclectic assembly of items. Droid parts, service equipment and a never-ending sea of useless trinkets and baubles lined table after table. The hunt for the missing lightsaber was quickly growing tedious. 

Stopping in the midst of a gravel packed walkway, Obi-Wan just stood there. After a moment, he allowed a soft sigh. This was an important mission, at least so in the eyes of the High Council. His attention should be focused on it and not that it was exceptionally unexciting. Boring, as Anakin would have put it. 

His thoughts drifted to his apprentice, wondering just what the teenager was up too. He had little doubt that Master Yoda was being reminded of why he no longer took on padawan learners. Not for his age, but rather for the headache just the thought of the student inspired. 

At the edge of his vision, something familiar caught his attention and upon it until his gaze fell upon the tarnished bronze casing of an old lightsaber training remote. It appeared to be of a design far older than any he had seen in use at the Temple. Studying the device as he approached the table it was nestled on, he noted that it appeared to only have three low charge emitters and a dented case that gave it almost an oblong shape. To his surprise, the sphere was small enough to fit into the palm of his hand. 

Taking the small device up with thermal-sheathed fingers, the young master decided it would be something Anakin could appreciate. If nothing else, it would entertain him long enough to repair it and use it for practice during long missions away from the Temple. 

Rolling the small device about in his palm, he knew that if anyone could repair it, that it would be Anakin.

Curiosity was stirred up in him as he searched the rest of the objects littering the crescent shaped table, wondering what other "Jedi" items he could find. 

The collection of things had once been bright, shiny and new. Once having served a purpose to someone, somewhere but now the myriad of objects had fallen into disrepair or worse, driven into obsolescence.

A horrified scream echoed throughout the valley marketplace causing the Jedi to turn sharply seeking the source. His quick eyes caught a brief glimpse of a Toydarian flying just ahead of a large pack of beings fleeing from the market. With a small smile, he recognized Siri's handiwork and realized that she too was not having much luck.

Aware of the shopkeeper's wary gaze focused on him, Obi-Wan turned his attention back to the ragged looking Hrapa's booth. The red-skinned female followed his every movement with tiny black eyes while she took deep drags from a long pipe the curved down ending in a shallow bowl filled with a green fiber soaking in some sort of liquid. The rest of the table was littered with a mixture of trinkets and old weapons. Most of what he saw were old blaster parts that did not look capable of ever working again not matter what kind of work was put into them. 

Exhaling slowly, he reached for the Force guiding it over the damaged remains of once usable weapons hoping to see what his eyes could not. The energies of the ancient power washed over him, traveling along the various shapes that covered the table but there was nothing that could have passed for a lightsaber, not even a part of one. The Force could not identify the weapon of a great Jedi if it were not there. 

Somehow though, the feeling buried deep in his chest–the one that told him what he wanted would not be–warned him that the Prak'sha would not be found in the market. Yet it was that same feeling that told him that it did exist. It was a strange sense that did not ease his spirit, reminding him of the days following Qui-Gon's death at the hand of that Sith beast. It had taken him time to truly accept that his master would not walk through the door at any moment. Even when logic told him it would never be, his heart reached out expecting to greet the older Jedi. 

In time that feeling drifted and died with the strain of new duties placed upon him. His watch over Anakin's training gave little for dreams. 

"What can I do you for, traveler?" the Hrapa hissed in her broken Basic and shattered Obi-Wan's thoughts.

Keeping to a casual pose with his hand held out, clearly displaying the practice probe so the alien would not worry about him stealing it, he took another sweeping look at her wares. Finally, turning his attention to the weathered face of the Hrapa, he asked, "You would not, perchance have heard about a lightsaber recently passing through the market?"

The Hrapa's scaled brow rose slightly, revealing tiny black eyes as she studied her would be customer. "Jedi weapons?" She sucked in on the pipe's mouthpiece before pausing and tapping the silver bowl to the dirty table in front of her. "Wouldn't know one if I saw one."

Sensing the falsehood, Obi-Wan nodded and placed the training remote back on the table. "Thank you for your time." He turned and began to walk away.

After only a few steps, the Hrapa called out, "They are worth a lot in these parts. If you have one for sale, you could make plenty of credits."

Obi-Wan turned to face her once more allowing no emotion to cross his handsome face as the Hrapa offered a sharp-toothed grin. 

"I know sellers," she teased, waving her long fingers toward him, beckoning him to return to her wares. "I can broker you a good deal."

"The sale or barter of lightsabers is illegal."

She hissed mockingly between drags on the pipe. "You are too pale to be Y'Begaar. You do not scare me, human creature."

"I was not trying to frighten you, I was merely stating a fact," Obi-Wan replied, returning to the edge of the booth. When he approached the table once more, he allowed his arms to fall to his sides and his cloak to shift open enough to reveal the silver cylinder of his own lightsaber clipped to his utility belt.

The Hrapa's brow furrowed causing great creases to become visible as she recoiled with a snarl.

"I am looking for a lightsaber. It is very old and may not be in the best of condition," he said evenly as he folded his arms across his chest. "Have you seen such a weapon?" he calmly asked never allowing his gaze to falter. 

The being shrunk down in her seat, her head low as if faced with a blinding light, refusing to meet the Jedi's serene gaze. After a few uncomfortable moments, when it was apparent that he would not leave without an answer, she said, "Possibly."


	9. 

****

Chapter Nine

"No. No! No!" Benjur Korimor cried out as he fought against the large, hairy white hands that gripped his shoulders digging fierce claws into the heavy material that protected his gray flesh. The thief struggled against his captor but remained pinned to the dingy wall of his small transport. "No, please!" He began to sob, gripping desperately at the long fur that protected the massive hands that held him. The slight of build humanoid shook violently as large tears streamed down his rough face. "Please," he wept as the fight started to seep from him. "Please don't kill me," he begged in the high voice of his species.

"Please?" the owner of the fur covered hands mocked. Towering over Benjur was a great Ulamar Draigon. The slightest twitch of tightly coiled muscles rippled under the mixture of silver scales and white fur that covered its body. It's wolfen like head raised slightly as his black nose sniffed the air. Bearing sharp teeth in a savage grin, he returned his attention to the troublemaker in his hold. "I haven't had my lunch today," he snarled.

"No, please don't hurt me," Benjur bawled quivering at the sight of the fangs hovering dangerously close. "Don't kill me." 

"I can save your life," a third voice–sporting a cultured Core accent–entered the conversation. Behind the beastly being appeared a tall man. Face cleanly shaven and framed by short brown locks. "Let us give him a chance to explain himself, Quim."

A gentle sweep of the interloper's hand brushed back the soft brown leather of his long cloak revealing a low-slung blaster holster at his hip. One of many weapons on his person but the only he chose to bear. Fingers slid over the black form of the trim Tenrael-11 blaster pistol. Not his usual weapon of choice by any means but it served.

Benjur's eyes widened, focused on the calm man. 

"No!" he howled, arms flailing about in a pitiful attempt at explanation. "It was just business, Garen. You have to understand." With a burst of energy, he exploded into struggle against the powerful arms that pinned.

Quim snorted, his canin-like snout wrinkling under silvery eyes. "I'm going to pull his arms free of his worthless torso," the Draigon snarled shifting his grip to Benjur's upper arms.

"Not yet," Garen calmly replied with a simple wave of his hand causing the long coat to brush along his tight cut leather trousers. 

"Please," Benjur moaned, his large eyes focusing on Garen begging for mercy.

"You betrayed a business deal," Garen coolly replied. 

"I was offered more credits. Much more. I couldn't turn it down. You know how it is."

"I do not break exclusive contracts. How many more credits was your life worth?"

"I–I–"

Benjur howled the instant Quim tugged on his right arm dislodging it from the shoulder socket.

Silently, Garen steeled himself, praying his beastly comrade would not kill the crook. He placed a hand on the massive, hairy shoulder. 

Quim growled but let the bellowing figure drop to the ground. "He deserves–"

With the toe of his tall cut boots, Garen lightly kicked out, pressing the toe into Benjur's wounded shoulder. The thief wailed in agony. "We paid you for delivery of a product. You not only broke an implied contract, you stole Maka Koth's money. He is very unhappy with you."

There were other ways to acquire the information. None of them were going to happen with Koth's number one man standing next to him. 

"I'll pay it back. Please," Benjur sobbed.

Deep blue eyes studied the gray skinned being, hiding whatever misgivings he had by a cool exterior. "You will never possess that kind of wealth." He knelt to face Benjur directly. Reaching out carefully with the Force, he searched the creature seeking anything that would prove a truth or a lie. "Whom did you sell the H'Aasarii Pyramid to?"

Behind, he could hear Quim's heavy breathing and the swish of his massive tale cutting just above the ground. Concern ran high, fearing that the instant Benjur offered the answer, the Draigon would snap his neck. 

He had only been in Koth's employ for a few months but he had learned much about the pirates most trusted crewmember. He knew enough to be afraid of the sometimes unpredictable Quim. Although, he had no fear that he was in danger, his knowledge of the ancient language of Benedaact, barely rudimentary for a Jedi, was quite extensive for someone outside the Order. Koth needed him and his "expertise" in acquiring certain antiquities. More precisely, Jedi artifacts that according to an ancient text form a map reader to some vague treasure.

Not that he really believed the ancient text. It was merely an extension of the ghost story Master Na'tho and other initiate supervisors treated younglings too. He remembered the tales unfolding in the darkened Great Assembly Hall with only a single lamp offering light in center of a circle of initiates. 

A tale for those who still suffered childish innocence.

Yet, the H'Aasarii Pyramid was real though. A holocron lost to the Order millennia ago and he was charged in retrieving it.

He would have had it and been on his way back to the Jedi Temple if it were not for this double crosser, Benjur Korimor. Now until he could track down the Pyramid's new holder, he was stuck in the company of pirates and murderers.

Lightning quick reflexes took Benjur by the collar and ripped him forward with a startled yelp. "I am losing my patience," Garen savagely barked. 

The thief tried to shrink away. 

"Let me loosen his other arm," Quim snarled.

"I sold it to Talaken," Benjur sobbed. "I sold it to Talaken of Attuka."

The name meant nothing to Garen. "Who?"

Quim snorted. "Local warlord on Attuka." He reached for the thief who shrieked in terror.

"Wait!" Garen snapped sensing Quim's murderous intent, sparing Benjur's life a moment longer. "Let him live."

"You are not the authority here!" Quim viciously snapped.

"No, but if he is lying, we will need to pry the truth from him. Besides," he added with a frown, "death would be a gift to this creature. Better he should live in fear of Koth's wrath."

The Draigon stared at him for a time, and then dropped Benjur to the ground. A low growl escaped the beast. 

Calmly Garen rose to his feet and started to walk away. He hoped that would be enough. 

"Maka will be furious," Quim said as he marched up behind the disguised Jedi. "He will want reparations for the credits lost."

"I am certain Benjur will be happy to do a few jobs to pay back his debt." He glanced back at the Draigon and offered him a knowing smile. "Besides, we need to get back to Selvax and report."

A hairy hand fell to his shoulder and Quim laughed. "I do not know who is more eager to collect the pieces of the puzzle, you young one or Maka."


	10. 

****

Chapter Ten

Out of the corner of her eye, a crystalline blue caught Siri Tachi's attention and with a casual shopper's presence, she drifted from the straight line she had been walking over to a small booth covered with samples of mineral masses from all over the galaxy.

The instant her gaze had touched the blue stone her heart leapt and pounded and she struggled to keep control. Eyeing the slip of a dealer, she was careful not to allow the slightest physical manifestation of her excitement. Some beings, particularly suited to these kinds of bazaars were known to read changing bio signatures to help gage their customer's willingness to pay higher prices. 

A variety of stones glittered, all demanding a little of her attention even as she fought to keep her focus from lingering too long on the blue stone toward the back of the display. 

Instead, she drove her attention onto a garish gold stone that shimmered–even in the dim natural lighting–in such a way that it almost looked alive.

"That is lentin stone used by the Regl priests in their confirmation ceremonies. It's very rare," the shopkeeper's soft voice lilted through the air as the thin creature shifted, to better study his customer. 

The blond haired Jedi did not answer the yellow skinned rock dealer but instead allowed her gaze to pass over the other examples of stones. 

"I have every kind and if I don't have something that pleases you, I can find it. All you have to do is ask. The rarest stones in the galaxy are at your command." He finished with a flourish of his long hand. 

Gloved fingers slid over the smooth form of a mirror black stone even as her gaze darted across the small table to the brilliant blue one that had brought her to that booth in the first place. From what she could see, it was covered in some sort of hardened muck. Pulling a glove free of a pale hand, she picked up one of the nearby stones and examined it closely. The polished surface slipped through her fingers and robbed her of a little more warmth. Placing it back upon the table she perused several other interesting finds. Careful not to draw too much attention to the one she really wanted.

"How much is that lentin stone?" she asked.

"Twenty-five daktiris."

"What about in Republic credits?"

"Eighteen."

"And the pink stone on the end?" She smiled, looking longingly at the white veined river rock. One of many thousands she had seen on Alderaan during one visit or another in the little stream that ran through the elegant Coesai Gardens in the capital city.

"I'll give it to you for thirty credits. It is a river stone from the Shrine of Apella from Mantob XI."

_Liar._

"And this blue stone?" she casually pointed to the one that had possessed her attention before arriving at the booth.

"The one that matches your eyes?" the seller asked as he scooped it up and started to scrape the hardened shell off of it. "For a pretty thing like you? Eight credits. I can clean it up and drill a hole in it and make a necklace for you. It would look lovely."

"I am sure it would," she said adding a gentle smile, "but I would rather not have any holes drilled in it. It will look pretty on my shelf where I keep mementos." Siri calmly forked over the eight credits and the dealer quickly handed over the stone. 

Holding the encrusted stone tight in her grip, she casually walked away. At a few paces from the booth, she slipped it into one of her utility belt pouches and replaced her glove.

A smug smile crossed her lightly colored lips. If the dealer had known that he had a lightsaber focusing crystal in his possession, she would not have had enough credits to even get a glimpse of it. 

Maybe this trip wasn't such a complete waste after all. 

_____________________

****

Chapter Eleven

"My memory is not so good," the Hrapa insisted as she sunk back into her padded chair and waved a long fingered hand before her face. Whatever concerns she initially possessed with her potential buyer had drifted away in light of an impending sale.

Obi-Wan picked up the training remote again. "How much?"

"Fifty daktiris."

"Fifteen Republic credits," he said in a quick but firm tone. At her nod, he handed over the credits and the dealer took her time counting and recounting them before placing the chips into a deep pocket on the outermost layer of her shabby clothing. 

"Business is not so good," she said, glancing sadly about at her meager belongings. "Not since Y'Begaar came. All I do is sit and listen to many conversations. Never sell anything. So many interesting things I hear, I sometimes get things mixed up." She not so innocently grinned.

Sighing, the Jedi's pale blue gaze over the wares again that covered the dingy crescent shaped table. There was nothing worth the Hrapa's inflated prices but he knew he needed to buy something else in order to inspire her memory. 

Then, at the back of the table, nearly hidden by a broken blaster rifle mount stood a tiny figurine. Quickly setting his first purchase to the side, pulling free one of his gloves and holding back the billowing sleeve of his cloak, Obi-Wan reached across the table and picked the simple figure up. The glossy lacquer that covered the wood reflected a golden sheen as he brought it close for examination.

He knew the curiosity and delight reflected his face gave the game away as he carefully examined the seven centimeter tall figure gently nestled in his large hand. At the same time, he did not care.

A tender smile drew across his lips as feathery lashes brushed over his cheeks. With closed eyes, he mentally thrilled at the small surprise. 

Rising gracefully from the center of his battle-scarred hand was a tiny Mahari dancer. The lithe figure reached out in a beautiful pose.

During his life, he had seen a few of the figures in the possession of Jedi who greatly treasured the tiny Mahari representations of mischievous spirits.

The priests of the Mahar home world carved them from sacred woods to reflect the images of their gods dancing throughout their world. Jedi appreciated the tiny figurines because their dancing poses were reminiscent of various kata points. 

Even the smallest of initiates could recognize the stance the figurine was in. It was familiar to one of the highest-level katas, the fiery bird. The dancer's sleek form flowing gracefully forward as if it were about to sprout wings and fly out of his hand. 

He knew of only one Jedi that exemplified such a pose and that was Siri Tachi, as fiery as any star in the galaxy. 

"How much?"

"That is rare and quite expensive," she crooned. "Three-hundred daktiris."

"Seventy-five Republic credits."

"One hundred and I tell you where your lightsaber is."

Glancing quickly about the booth, he found a group of colorful scarves hanging from a post in the back and grabbed a bright purple and gold one. Caring fingers gently wrapped the tiny dancer in the folds of gilded silk. "Throw the scarf in and you have a deal."

The Hrapa scowled, but then after a moment, relented. "Deal."


	11. 

****

Chapter Twelve

Multicolored lights gave a warm glow to the atmosphere of the small diner on the outskirts of the Bin'hai Market. Inside was mercifully warm allowing travelers and locals the comfort of shedding gloves to enjoy a meal. 

At a narrow booth in the far corner sat two Jedi enjoying a light meal. Conversation was soft, unheard over the din of patrons enjoying a decent serving before returning to their work and ships. 

"There was this café," Siri began between mouthfuls of a layered nerf and vegetable sandwich, "that made the best pappo stuffed nerf." With a free hand she tried to describe the dish to her luncheon companion. "These little orange fruits–they're sweet–with the insides scooped out and filled with shredded nerf sautéed in some lovely sauce." Without missing a beat, she bit into the corner of the green roll. "Mmm."

The warm lighting, gave gentle shadows across Obi-Wan's face and offering a myriad of colors dancing in his eyes. He just sat there, quietly watching Siri devour her meal with barely a breath in between bites. Fearful that any attempt to do so and he would short a finger or two. Studying his own plate he poked at the pile of pickled urbi fruit next to the last few bites of his sandwich.

"It's not going to crawl anywhere," Siri mumbled between mouthfuls.

"One can hope."

"What? You don't like it?" she asked while reaching across the table and with her bare fingers, scooped up a helping of urbi fruit and stuffed some of it into her mouth. "I thought you could eat anything." Then crammed the rest of the stringy purple food into her mouth.

"Not urbi fruit." The older Jedi made a face when he looked back down at the pile that stilled remained on his plate and wished Siri would help herself to the rest. It left a slight unsettled feeling in his stomach looking at the stringy fiber and seeds. "At least not since Garen blew it out of his nose."

Siri abruptly stopped eating and swallowed the mouthful with a loud gulp. Her bright blue eyes reflecting the unspoken shock. "Was that before or after the incident with the Lugaberian berry juice?"

"After."

"You would think he would learn not to play with his food." A light laugh escaped the female Jedi. "Has Bant ever forgiven him for the juice incident?" 

"Not that I know of. She still refuses to treat him in the healing center. Even when he isn't suffering from food poisoning."

"It wasn't like he drank enough of that stuff to sicken a dozen beings." She laughed again.

Obi-Wan found he liked the sound. It was far better than the snarling personality she had adopted of late. "Well, her face was covered purple splotches for over a week." 

Siri grinned before stealing another bit of urbi from his plate. "Lugaberian juice stains terrible."

Noting Siri's longing look lingering on the pile of fruit, he pushed it toward her. "More?"

"Out of his nose, huh?"

"He sounded like Maser Yoda for a week."

Smiling, Siri traded the few remaining fried red roots for the pile of urbi fruit on his plate. Picking a small group of spongy purple, she finished it off quickly, pausing long enough to add, "When I am on long missions, this reminds me of home." She glanced away, looking a little embarrassed. "I know sounds silly, but it grounds me."

"Why? There is nothing at all silly about it. Sometimes we need to be reminded of who we are and the things that are important to us. It gives more meaning to why we serve, especially in these trying times."

Siri stared at him for a moment, but when he did not further elaborate, she turned her attention elsewhere. Fishing into the folds of her draped cloak, she dug into one of the pouches on her utility belt and produced the blue focusing crystal. 

Finding a free space near the center of the round table, she placed it for Obi-Wan to see. 

The other Jedi looked from the gem to the pleased expressing glossing Siri's face. "Where–"

"Eight credits," she softly–but proudly–announced. "Nearly six hours wondering the market, I spent eight credits and didn't get the slightest lead on the existence of the phantom lightsaber."

Reaching across the plates and drinks, the ginger haired Jedi picked up the prize and turned it over with roughened fingers. He recognized that it was a focusing crystal even under the hardened muck that partially encased it. Careful fingers applied pressure to the reddish layering and broke it away allowing the crumbles to fall to his lap and the floor. 

"It is in good condition," he said softly. Taking up a napkin and dipping the edge into his water glass, he then carefully wiped away the remaining muck that clung to it. "Very usable. If you ever need a spare."

"I carry spares and blue isn't my color." She scooped up another small pile of urbi fruit. "Besides, it could have been worse. The dealer didn't know what it was. He was trying to pawn off worthless stones with fabricated names and the real prize he practically threw away."

"Then we should be grateful. They are rare on the market and even rarer in the hands of the uninitiated." Placing the stone back in he center of the table, he then folded his hands together and waited patiently until Siri's gaze sought him out.

"What?" she asked.

A sweep of his hand pushed his plate to the side and he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the edge of the table and folded his hands together before him. Grinning, he began to speak softly, his words meant only for Siri, "A very old looking lightsaber with strange writing carved into the hilt was very recently in the possession of Devoli Finn A transient of sorts that comes to the market every now and again to sell what he scrounges up. I never mentioned the markings on the casing."

Siri just stared at him, her food having lost all interest. "So how do we find this guy?"

"Find this guy!" a girlish voice chirped as a gray cloaked figure flopped down in a free chair next to the table. Pushing the hood back, Janua grinned as one of her red hands reached out and snatched up one of the fried roots off Obi-Wan's plate. "I can help," she said just before jamming it into her mouth. She started to reach across the table again.

"This is a private conversation," Siri said, snatching up the focusing crystal from the center of the table. 

Janua giggled, shaking her head as she caught Siri's hand. Her leather banded lekku shifting about as she struggled to examine what Siri was desperately protecting. 

"Pretty," she cooed, prying the Jedi's fingers apart. 

"Do you mind?" Siri asked, freeing herself and the focusing crystal out of the troublemaker's grip. 

The young Twi'lek grunted something and turned her attention to the remaining food on Obi-Wan's plate. Snatching up the bit of sandwich, she finished it off in two large bites. "I can help you find the Dug," she mumbled through a mouthful. "I am helpful."

"We can do just fine without your help," Siri replied.

Obi-Wan studied the other Jedi and wondered why she was so caustic toward the Twi'lek. Certainly, Janua was annoying but that did not warrant the harsh responses. 

"You don't know where on the Iced Sea Finn is," came the Twi'lek's playful reply. 

"We can ask around."

"No one will tell you, Jedi." Janua stuck her tongue out at Siri then reached to steal a bit more food from Obi-Wan's plate but her wrist was caught in a firm grip holding it just centimeters from the food. "Hey," she growled as fingers strained to grasp the last fry.

"What will you get out of helping us?" Obi-Wan calmly asked before releasing his hold.

Her bangle cover wrists jangled as she grabbed up the last bit of food on the plate. "More food. Jedi to keep the Y'Begaar away. I am helpful."

"Helpful at cleaning plates!" Siri growled. 

The ginger haired Jedi calmly raised a hand silencing any more protests from Siri.

"I can take you to Finn the Dug." The Twi'lek smiled happily as she pulled her gray cloak close. 

Obi-Wan studied the young woman, noting that she was older than she pretended but still far too young and too on her own to be living the kind of life she was. He also noted that there was something hidden about her. Ekaro said she was a pickpocket and a nuisance, someone to keep a distance from. Lightly searching through the Force, he found no immediate threat in her presence, short of any scenes Siri might cause. He would watch her.

Janua leaned forward, enthusiasm radiating off her like heat. Her dark eyes sparkled in the ambient lighting. "I am helpful."

"Food, a few credits and a few hours protection, but do not try our patience," Obi-Wan warned.

"I'll be good." She playfully grinned at her new protector.

Siri just gave him a withering look.


	12. 

****

Chapter Thirteen

Janua shifted in the back seat of the rented speeder. Pressing into the taped up front seat, she reached across the bench as fingers clasped the folds of Obi-Wan's cloak. Her red painted lips brushed close to the Jedi's ear. "Almost there," she purred.

Siri twisted about uncomfortably in the passenger seat. A spring was poking up through the seat. She shifted again and quickly stole a glance toward Obi-Wan at the speeder controls and his Twi'lek adornment. She softly scowled turning her attention back to the sea of white that surrounded them in every direction. 

A turbulent ocean of thoughts raged through her, all of them demanding dominance even as she struggled to calm her mind. The Jedi knew she was agitated and felt helpless to seek out the answer, every sound or move that troublemaking Twi'lek made drug her further from her center.

Reaching up, Obi-Wan grasped Janua's wandering hand as it trailed across his chest and placed it back on the bench seat.

Undeterred, red skinned fingers casually trailed over Obi-Wan's chest, lightly playing with the layers of material that protected him from the bitter cold. Her long digits slipped into the folds of material pressing against warm flesh.

Siri abruptly cleared her throat slightly startling Janua. "How much further?"

Taking his hand from the controls once more, the ginger haired Jedi grasped the hand buried in his tunic and placed it back on the seat.

A pouting sigh was the Twi'lek's only answer. Then suddenly, Janua called out as she pointed to a large blue post rising out of the snow, "There!"

"What is it?" the female Jedi asked squinting into the sea of white. There was nothing but the post as far as she could see.

"A marker post," was the young woman's short reply. "Go left. It will take us to the edge of the sea." When Siri made no more comment, the Twi'lek made a soft purring sound as she drew her fingers in little circles along Obi-Wan's shoulder.

Silently, he obeyed the directions, guiding the speeder along the edge of the Iced Sea. "How much farther?"

"Soon."

Siri twisted. Sharp blue eyes raking over Janua, hoping to drive the bothersome creature back into her seat. The little beast didn't answer when _she_ asked the same question first. 

Janua's dark eyes met hers and were not impressed. She offered up a mocking grin as if aware of the emotions turning within the Jedi.

Turning her attention back to the snow and ice, Siri tried to calm down. Closing her eyes, she allowed a deep exhale. Every shift of the Twi'lek ground on her, reminding her that she had just invaded. They didn't have time to humor her. This mission was important, or at least someone thought it was. Experience told her that a creature like this was never to be trusted. Janua was playing a game, lulling them into believing she is nothing but innocent and helpful and then when they let their guard down.

She would never let her guard down.

This Janua would never be given the benefit of the doubt and she was completely dumbfounded that Obi-Wan would allow her to lead them across this miserable world. She could be leading them into a trap for all anyone knew. 

Looking to Obi-Wan again, her gaze sought out his weary expression and wondering if he had gone soft in the head after years of training that padawan of his. Humoring Janua was hardly the actions of the padawan she had known. This was more in line something his master would have done.

It seemed she learned something new everyday.

Turning to face Janua, she asked, "What do you know about this Dug?" 

"Grouchy old thing," the Twi'lek said, barely drawing her attention from Obi-Wan. "Likes no one unless you are bringing lots of credits."

Typical dealer. Burying her gloved hands in the folds of her cloak sleeves, Siri folded her arms across her chest. "Tell me something I don't know."

"You don't act very Jedi-like."

Out of the corner of her eye, Siri caught a brief smile grace Obi-Wan's lips before being hidden by his usual staid expression.

Siri straightened but was ignored by the obstinate Twi'lek. "What would you know about Jedi?" she growled.

Obi-Wan eyed Siri and mouthed, "Settle down." Focusing on the path carved into the snow and ice, he directed the speeder across the curving path.

When the Twi'lek leaned into him again, Siri growled and turned her attention back to the dusted windshield just as they approached the wreckage of a light freighter.

"Here we are!" the Twi'lek crowed as the speeder slowed. "See, I told you not long now."

"This is it?" Siri asked staring out at the junk pile that surrounded the craft. Of all of the places in the galaxy for the Prak'sha to show up, this was the most shocking. She had imagined a better fate for the ancient lightsaber after the murder of the last known Jedi to possess it, Ben'al Houk, over a millennia ago.

"Janua is helpful." The Twi'lek pulled her hood high and quickly pushed her way out of the speeder even before it had come to a complete stop. 

As soon as she was a distance from the two Jedi, Obi-Wan calmly turned toward Siri. "Please, try not to get into a war with her. 

"War? It would be a lot easier if you didn't let her hang all over you."

Obi-Wan said nothing as he cut the engine and climbed out of the old speeder. Pulling his cowl close, he eyed his tempestuous companion once more. "This will be over soon. We will get what we can from this Finn and–"

"Get rid of her."

Pale blue eyes focused on her.

"Don't look at me like that. I am not your padawan to handle."

Obi-Wan nodded in compliance and turned his attention to the ramshackle home of the Dug where the gray cloaked Twi'lek waving furiously at them to follow her.


	13. 

****

Chapter Fourteen

"Come! Come!" the Twi'lek barked into the biting wind as she gathered the edges of her cloak and pulled it close. She twisted about and quickly raced up the crumpled loading ramp that was permanently in the down position as several of the supports were shattered and bent.

"We had better hurry," Obi-Wan said as he pulled his hood low to protect against the wind and raced across the snow pack to the ramp.

"Hurry!" Janua called out before disappearing into the shadows.

The thud of boots rushed up the ramp. "Are we just going to barge in on this guy?" Siri asked as she pulled her hood down and glanced about the dingy, junk littered bay of the ship. She spied the Twi'lek ahead and rushed after her. 

"Knows we are here," Janua said absently just before she disappeared around a sharp corner. Small rusted parts tumbled from their piles. 

Siri's hand tightened around her saber as she raced forward trying to keep up with the wild one. No threat sang in the Force but she was leery, unwilling to give Janua the benefit of the doubt. The Twi'lek was no good. She would just betray them. Her boots clattered over the loose floor panels just as she came to an abrupt stop. 

The two Jedi easily caught up with the Twi'lek who was working a control panel to the door that sealed off the narrow corridor. Pale purplish light rods flickered casting eerie shadows across the three faces. 

"We got credits!" Janua barked into the intercom above the panel by the sealed doors. Her red hand slapped at the door causing it to reverberate throughout the ship. 

"Who has credits?" Siri asked but Obi-Wan silenced her with a gentle hand to her shoulder. She turned to glare at him. 

He spoke softly, barely heard over the racket Janua was making. "If this Finn can help us, then it is worth it."

"The sooner I can get off this frozen wasteland," the female Jedi agreed.

Janua's dark eyes focused on the ginger haired Jedi. "Hmm, yes," she purred. "Yes, wouldn't want to keep you here." She turned back to the communication unit and hit it with her fist. "We have credits!"

"Nothing to sell, go away!" a voice crackled over the static filled comm.

Again a hand slammed into the solid wall that kept them from accessing the Dug. "Open up, you miserable creature! Open up! We have a business proposition for you."

Suddenly the door groaned and banged as it slid over the rough surface but just far enough for each one to slide through the narrow opening. Siri and Janua were small and lithe enough to pass easily but it took Obi-Wan a moment longer to work his way through. He tugged at his cloak and tunics as they snagged on the uneven edges.

Janua giggled as the Jedi managed to pull free. Straightening his clothing out, he then shook his head and brushed fingers through his hair feathering it back.

"A little tight," Siri softly teased. 

"Just a little," Obi-Wan replied as he glanced around the hall. "I used to be able to fit into small places," he said sheepishly turning back to the narrow opening.

"When you were thirteen," Siri added, reaching out and patting his abdomen.

"I have grown a little since then."

"Just a little." Siri looked around. "She's gone."

"She is just ahead," Obi-Wan replied motioning toward the light down the hall.

They found the room with Janua and the junk merchant surrounded by his treasure of broken equipment, trinkets and an assortment of other useless things piled and scattered about. The Dug was stretched out in a slung back chair with Janua kneeling behind him stroking the gray-brown skin behind his small ears. 

"The Jedi are looking for an old lightsaber," the Twi'lek whispered as she ran a long finger down the back of his neck. "You had it."

"Of course I had it," Finn growled. He smiled, stretching his legs and curling his toes in obvious enjoyment of Janua's attention. "I always have the good stuff. Don't have it no more, though."

"We understand that," Siri said stepping forward doing all in her power to present the serene image of a Jedi Knight. She paused when the Dug's eyes carefully ran the length of her body. She nearly pulled her cloak closed. Then the creature raised a lip in a disgusted snarl and turned a lascivious look back on the Twi'lek.

Obi-Wan bowed slightly and then spoke slowly, "We would much appreciate learning who you sold it too. We are interested in acquiring it."

"He won't sell it," Finn replied leaning into the Twi'lek's touch.

"That is our concern," Obi-Wan frankly returned. "Can you aid us in finding the buyer?"

Gruffly, Finn waved a foot of dismissal at the Jedi.

"Aw, but you can help us," Janua cooed, drawing a slow finger along the side of his neck.

"I could," Finn purred, totally seduced by the gentle movement of Janua's fingers. "But what do I get out of it?" his smoky voice inquired. He eyed the Jedi carefully and after a moment said, "Jedi are strong. Powerful. Yes, Jedi are useful." After a moment more, the Dug grinned, bearing his teeth.

Siri was certain she didn't want to hear what he had in mind.

"I have lost a casefull of important things." As he spoke, he gestured with his toes. "Get it for me and I will tell you who has your precious lightsaber. Not that is any good. It doesn't work."

"We are not in the business of doing scavenger hunts," Siri said abruptly. 

"Where is this case?" Obi-Wan coolly asked.

"Over the cliff," Finn answered breaking into a deep laugh.


	14. 

** Chapter Fifteen**

"I can't believe this," Siri growled. Her footsteps crunched the crystals dusting the snow pack that formed the ground she walked on. Twisting about, she looked back at the old freighter, her narrowed gaze sweeping along the ground as she turned to face Obi-Wan.

"A little give and take and it does not cost us anything except time," Obi-Wan calmly spoke as he stared down into the cavern just meters before him. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught Siri's unhappy look as she pulled her hood free and studied the frozen wasteland.

"I think I would rather have emptied the Temple coffers."

"I am sure the Council would appreciate the sentiment."

Drawing up next to Obi-Wan, Siri turned her attention inward. From her utility belt, she produced a light nylon cord, a small glow rod attached to a thin wristband and a small communication unit she clipped over her ear and then adjusted the tiny mike.

Janua pulled her cloak close as she hurriedly joined the two Jedi. Her dark eyes shifted from one to the other. "You do not know what you are doing," she called out. "It is very deep. The canyons are dangerous. You should not go."

"Feels solid," Obi-Wan replied, not giving the worried Twi'lek a glance. Oddly enough, he silently noted she was worried. The emotion was radiating from her like heat.

Revealing compact electrobinoculars, the Jedi peered down into the gorge and scanned the area. It took only a few moments to spy the dark blue case. "I think I see it."

Siri reached out and took the binoculars. "Where?"

"Seven degrees to your left," he answered as he turned his attention back to the snow packed cliff. Casting out with the Force, he carefully examined the layers upon layers, seeking to know just how stable it was.

"That doesn't look like much trouble," Siri announced handing the binoculars back to the ginger haired Jedi.

"There's some ice breaks down there," Obi-Wan said as he took a few more paces away from the ledge, still studying the snow pack.

"Many die out here," Janua said as she retreated a little farther. She tugged at her cloak and waved back and forth, eyeing the situation.

"She's scared," Siri said softly as she undid the nylon cord.

"We would be too if we had any sense." He fixed his own small communication unit to his ear.

"Whoever accused us of sense?" Siri grinned as she tossed him the end of the line before leaping backward off the edge of the cliff.

"No!" the Twi'lek screamed as Obi-Wan caught the edge of the line.

"You crazy woman!" Obi-Wan barked over the comm.

Siri laughed as the line went taut and she easily repelled along the frozen wall away from jagged outcroppings.

Deeper into the gorge, the light was not so harsh and shadows danced along the crystalline walls. It was beautiful. Pinks and blues glowed all about.

Her reverie was shattered when the line jerked and she suddenly dropped several meters coming to a stop with a rough jerk. "Hey!"

"Everything is fine," Obi-Wan growled. "I am in control."

"Uh huh."

She knew he would not drop her. If she had possessed any fear that he would not maintain a firm hold on the line, she would not have had the bravado to leap.

Boots scraped over the surface as she disappeared deeper into the shadows of the ice caverns where the white sun could not touch her. Holding tight to the line, Siri paused, balancing on an ice jut. Holding her free hand out and using the Force, she activated the small glow rod tied to her wrist to better illuminate the shadow-encased cavern.

Shining the bright light about the darkened area, she quickly found the blue case.


	15. 

** Chapter Sixteen**

"I see it," Siri's voice crackled over the intercom.

"Excellent," Obi-Wan grunted. The thin nylon line was wrapped tight around his arm and he gripped it even though numbness was raging through his fingers from the cut off circulation. His boots had sliced a swath into the snow pack where he had slid. The heels were dug in and with the aid of the Force he was anchored only a meter from the edge.

She had not allowed him time to prepare and the sudden tug on the nylon line nearly pulled him over the icy ledge. Breaths came quick and short as he stretched out, his free hand straining as he reached back, digging gloved fingers into the solid ice. "It would be nice if you hurried," he managed between gritted teeth.

"Whine, whine, whine!"

"Next time you hold the rope." Suddenly, the pull suddenly let up sending the Jedi tumbling backward. "Warning, please!" he barked into the comm just before hitting the ground.

"Sorry."

In the cramped cockpit of the small black Kuat Eezor-Class runner _Tantamount_, Garen Muln leaned forward in the pilot's seat. He pressed rough hands to his weary face. Feeling the stubble prickling his fingers, he absently noted that he needed to shave.

If nothing else on this long and winding mission, he wanted to be able to see his face. No beards, nothing to obscure his reflection. It was a strange thought he occasionally admitted to himself, but surrounded by the trappings of Maka Koth and his band of pirates and cutthroats it was all he had to remind himself of the Jedi he was.

Being a Jedi is truly a state of mind and he knew it was weakness to cling to the physical but every little bit helped. Leaning back in the seat, he felt the hard shape of his lightsaber hilt pressing into the small of his back. It was comforting to know the weapon was still there, always there in case he needed it. Besides, the weapon was safest on his person. The damage that could be done if Koth or one of his cronies got a hold of it gave him chills. He wanted to rob this man of his Jedi artifacts, not aid him in his mad quest.

His ruse as an expert in Jedi antiquities was running too long now. He had been at it for far too many months and feared that soon Koth or one of his men would figure it out.

Pressing his feet into the floor, he unsuccessfully tried to straighten his long legs. Eezor-Class ships were not made for tall humans. The leather he wore, clung and pulled in places he would rather it not. He missed the loose fitting comfort of his Jedi clothes.

Soon—hopefully—he would possess the H'Aasarii Pyramid. He still needed to work with Koth to retrieve it. The man was cruel beyond exception but he could acquire anything he wanted. This warlord, Talaken, according to Quim would soon as destroy the holocron than allow it to fall into Jedi or Republic hands. He could be tempted into selling it to Koth though, for a price.

"Meditating, young one?" Quim's gruff voice broke into the silence as the large beast pushed the cockpit door open and lumbered into the tight confines before settling at the navigator's station.

"Something like that."

"Better places in back to find your center than cramped up in here." Quim's silver scales reflected the many different colored lights on the console.

Garen's deep blue eyes briefly reflected alarm before falling behind an emotionless mask. Quim was a strange creature. He had never seen an Ulamar Draigon in the flesh, fur and scales but he had heard about them. This being was far different than anything he could have imagined. One moment he is threatening to dismember someone who had done him wrong to the next speaking about philosophical ideals. Quim had a lot in common with many of the Jedi Masters he had known in his life, except they were neither vicious nor violent like the Draigon.

Then there were times like these, where questions that brushed too close to the truth made him wary. Quim was testing him.

"It is quite noisy back by the engines. I cannot even sleep let alone dream of meditating back there."

"Then you do not know how to properly meditate for you are blocking your center," the great beast said with a snort.


	16. 

** Chapter Seventeen**

"I have it."

"It does not weigh too much, I hope," Obi-Wan groaned before pushing himself back to his feet and anchoring in place again. The soft leather of his boots, dug into the loose ice crystals.

"Excuse me?" Siri's voice crackled over the comm.

With a puff of warm breath over cold blushed lips, he laughed into the biting chill.

The sudden tug on the line threatened to rip the Jedi from his place, but he countered with his own weight and the aid of the Force, holding the line firm. Siri would never let him live it down if they both went tumbling over the edge.

Behind him, Obi-Wan could hear footsteps crunching over the frozen ground. Mentally reaching back, he scanned the quiet Twi'lek. She was afraid. If she were afraid of the fall off the edge, she should stay close to the Dug's freighter. Though, he suspected that her fear had nothing to do with the cliff.

Keeping a small piece of his attention focused on Janua, he slowly twisted the cord around his gloved hand. Bringing his arm back, he repeated the action, slowly drawing the line back in.

Janua drew a little closer, bobbing about curiously as she pulled her cloak tight. Dark eyes danced across the Jedi's rigid form before searching his face. Soft ginger strands brushed against his forehead with every move. She opened her mouth, but paused and closed it. After a moment, she tried again and succeeded in forming the words. "How long?"

"How long what?" The thin nylon cord cut into the layers of material that protected Obi-Wan's flesh from the cold as he pulled it in. He was beginning to wonder if he was going to have any feeling in his fingers by the time it was all over.

"How long have you two been," the young woman pulled her hood back revealing an innocent red face, "involved?"

Obi-Wan laughed, warm breath turning into little clouds of white, but then sobered at the frown that crossed the Twi'lek's face. "We are just friends," he said evenly, betraying no emotion.

"Oh."

Sensing she did not believe him, the Jedi added, "Nothing more." Internally, he brushed off her questioning as naïveté if she could think that he and Siri had any relationship beyond friendship. Maybe just a touch of rivalry left over from their youths, but just a touch.

"You two are very close," she stated.

"We have known each other for a long time." He was beginning to wonder if there was an end to the nylon line. He kept drawing it in and still no sign of Siri.

There was a scraping sound just over the side of the cliff that drew Janua's attention. She bit her lip slightly before looking back at Obi-Wan. "You two share a great affection not shared by 'just friends'."

Before Obi-Wan could say anything, she pulled her gray hood back over her face and bolted back toward the freighter.

A dark gloved hand waved up over the edge before grasping the cord once more. "Now, what were you saying?" Siri growled as she pulled herself up onto the snow pack. Brushing the white from her dark cloak, she tossed the blue case to the ground between the two Jedi as Obi-Wan quickly wound up the remains of the cord.

"I was speaking to Janua."

"Hrmph." The blond haired Jedi glanced about curiously as she straightened her clothes and pulled her cowl back over her head to protect from the cold before returning her bright blue gaze to Obi-Wan. "You were speaking to whom?" she asked, shifting her weight to one leg.

"Janua." He glanced about, noting the Twi'lek was nowhere to be seen. "I do not think she liked my answer."

Scooping the case up off the ground, Siri teased as she drifted passed him and patted his shoulder, "Poor girl. Did you break her heart?" A knowing laughter filled the air.

Obi-Wan just stood there watching Siri saunter toward the freighter. Her long cloak whipped about and twisted against her form in the sharp breeze. "Something like that," he whispered.


End file.
